Life Support
by Slytherin Kunoichi
Summary: He was getting the picture now... She wasn't there to talk.
1. The First Time

**Life Support**

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The first time it happened was a little past one in the morning. He had just returned to his penthouse in Metropolis, surprisingly early from an easy night of patrolling, with only a few minor bruises. Once behind closed doors, the Green Arrow had removed his green leather, and emerged from the green room as Oliver Queen, only covering himself in a pair of black sweat pants as he closed off the room and headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water before heading to bed for needed rest. He had an early flight to Gotham City in the morning for a meeting, followed by another flight that afternoon back to Star City.

Having only two sips from his glass before his attention was called to a demanding knock from his door, he questioned what the emergency was behind the door that he couldn't receive a phone call first for.

His brown eyes looked out the small peephole on his door, to see, probably the one person he wasn't expecting at that late hour. Her face was pale, her short blond hair looked disheveled, as she stood there, clad in a zip-up gray hoodie, and black sweat pants. Her green eyes seemed distant with a touch of fear as she brought her fist up and pounded on his door again. Every question that he could think of flew through his mind:

"_What was wrong? Why was she here? Why wasn't she running to Clark? Where was Clark?_"

He backed away from the door and unlocked the latch and pulled it open, "Chloe? Is everythi—"

She literally collided against him; her arm wrapping around his neck as she pulled him down to crush her lips against his. Her other arm clung around his waist pulling him roughly against her body while her lips continued to tackle his, and he dropped his glass of water at her first contact. The breaking glass didn't even pause her actions.

At first, his mind was in complete shock, and looking back on it, he justifies kissing her back at that moment was due to the famous "Oliver Queen kissing auto-pilot" mode he usually ran on. The initial shock screeched to a halt when she pried his lips open and began a fencing tournament with their tongues, and he nearly chocked on hers in surprise.

He didn't understand where any of this was coming from. Sure, he had numerous women throw themselves at him—but this was Chloe! The JL's Watchtower, Clark Kent (Superman's) best friend, Lois Lane's favorite cousin!

Sure, he could willingly admit Chloe was a beautiful girl, and he would be lying if he said he never pictured her naked (at some point every man thinks of every girl naked—it's natural and unstoppable). But he had never had any thoughts or need to act on it.

And as far as he knew, she hadn't been attracted to him at all—or she at least never led any indication that she was. Their banter was witty—a little flirtatious, but they both flirted with everyone, so he never took it seriously.

His hands clutched her shoulders and he was about to push her away and ask what the hell was wrong with her, when her hand trailed down his side and slipped beneath his sweat pants. His breath hitched, and he drew in air from her mouth while she continued to kiss him. Her fingers wrapped around his length, and Oliver found himself completely stunned and unaware at what point during her attack, he had become hard without noticing.

Her fingers flexed him in the palm of her hand and then eased their grip. Oliver could only groan into her mouth. One of his hands moved up from her shoulders, rubbing her neck before entangling itself in her blond tresses. His other hand had treaded down her side, snaking around her back and up and underneath her hoodie. His hand glided against her smooth skin and he shivered at how cold she was. Running his fingers up the bare skin of her back, he realized she wasn't wearing anything underneath the hoodie, and he had a hunch he shouldn't expect anything underneath her sweat pants either.

She removed her hands from the inside of his pants without break the kiss, and before he could acknowledge what she meant by doing so, she unzipped her hoodie, rolling the jacket off her shoulders as she pushed her bare chest flush against his.

He jerked back slightly at the contact, both because of how cold the temperature of her skin was, and the smooth caress of the contact that furthered his excitement. He brought both of his hands down to her lower back, pressing her even more against him before he lowered them to cup her buttocks.

Her fingers ensnared the waistband of his sweat pants, tugging them down to his mid-thigh, causing him to pull away from her lips, "Chloe—"

She cut him off by grinding her hips against his while she closed her swollen lips over his once more.

He was getting the picture now—she wasn't there to _talk_.

Still grabbing her ass, he hoisted her up, and she instantly wrapped her legs around his waist, making sure he was trapped. With one arm, he shoved everything that was on the counter, the blender, the bowl of fruit, the important documents, all of them were flung off in his haste, and if they didn't crash into the wall, they shattered on the hard floor.

He slammed her down on the counter, flat on her back. Tearing his lips from hers, he slid his fingers down the sides of her waist till he hooked the waistband of her pants and tore them off of her, sending them flying to the other side of the room, leaving her completely bare and nude before him, like he had suspected she would be.

Oliver gulped, suddenly feeling thirsty once more. Bending down, he pressed his lips to her flat stomach, and she bucked her hips against his in response. "Oliver… " He had never heard his name used in that tone before. Women had wanted him, begged him, many times. But the way Chloe had moaned his name was with urgency, as if she would break if she didn't have him soon.

Disregarding his pants completely, he abandoned his judgment and grasped her thighs, spreading her. His hand dipped between her legs, forgetting the doubt and guilt his subconscious was trying to push to the surface of his mind.

She pulled out of his reach before he could touch her. Sitting up on the counter, she slid to the edge and wrapped her legs around his waist again. "No foreplay," she commanded, guiding him into her before he could protest.

Despite the fact that she had jumped him the second he opened the door, he knew there was no way she was fully prepared for him. And he wasn't surprised when she could only get half of him in on her own. He didn't move, instead he swallowed the air he had unconsciously been holding. Though her skin was cold, on the inside, Chloe was pure heat. And she knocked the air out of him.

Chloe arched her hips in response, trying to get him to enter her fully and he grasped her hips tightly to hold her still. But she wouldn't have it. She crashed her hips forward, angling them perfectly, and using her arms to hold her up behind her, she thrust herself forward and down onto him.

Oliver choked in response, and before he could fully enjoy being sheaved inside her, Chloe was rolling her hips, and pulling his waist with her legs that remained clamped around him.

Annoyed that she wasn't being patient, Oliver finally gave in, and pulled out of her, only to thrust back in, hard.

She threw her head back in response, her mouth open in the perfect shape of his favorite vowel. He pulled back and jutted himself back in, receiving the same look on her face. And he couldn't help but grin.

She whimpered, arching her hips to take him in again, circling her arms around his back as she raked her nails down across his skin. His breathing hitched when she reached his lower back, one of his more sensitive areas on his body.

Her moves became more eager to meet his, and they both increased their speed, crashing into each other, neither one completely sated.

Her back arched off the counter again, curving like she was a bending bow, and Oliver the archer. And he took this moment to grab her body, pulling her up, he held her in his arms for a second before he threw her against the kitchen wall, ignoring the glass under him that was cutting into his feet as he pounded into her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she buried her face between his neck and shoulder as she welcomed the invasion. "Yes," she purred into his ear. "God, Oliver... Yes!"

As he fought to keep their rhythm, their bodies ignited as if on fire, they became slick with sweat as his body slid against hers, in hers. Her breathing was unsteady, and for a moment he thought he was hurting her, and he slowed in his actions.

But she pushed off the wall with her back, causing them both to fall to the floor without removing himself from her. She rolled them so she was on top, kneeling with each knee on either side of him, and she grinded her self down on him.

Oliver's hips jolted up to meet hers, drowning in the pleasure of her swallowing him as he fought the pain of the glass shards on the floor cutting into his back. She met him thrust for thrust, leaving his own breathing to become uneven.

Her nails dug into the abs on his stomach as she picked up her pace, her eyes closed tightly as she impelled herself up and down on him as if he was some kind of alter, and she was worshipping him. Her fingers clenched into his abdomen while her head rolls back and her green eyes flutter behind her eyelids and eyelashes as he felt her body clenching.

And Oliver felt himself nearly lose control. "No, Chloe," Oliver murmured, snagging his arm around her back as he rolled them so he was on top once more. "Not yet," he mumbled, driving into her, "Not yet."

She cried out, from the glass digging into her flesh and the thrill of him pounding into her. She wrapped herself around him once more, as if no matter what, they couldn't be close enough, and he swore the floor shook beneath them every time he shielded himself once more within her.

He noticed now, as her breasts rise and fall between them with each shallow intake of breath, that her skin seemed more colored, more natural, as if she were glowing and he leaned down and captured her lips with his, and although he couldn't pinpoint what she tasted like, he was surprised at how much she was like breathing for the first time. When your lungs burn and you inhale—Chloe felt like that first breath, tasted like it. And it was then that Oliver felt everything between them, their skin, their bodies, their _souls_—explode like the Sun did before the horizon every morning.

He collapsed beside her as to not crush her, and he realizes now, as they lay sweaty and gasping for breath among shards of broken glass, and scattered documents, that they have just had Earth-shattering sex; on his kitchen counter, against the wall, and all over the floor—with his door open.

And then he passed out.

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Dedicated to Stacy (Soapfan101, Stayceem, Stacymcgrew), and sarcastic_fina (Tarafina).

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


	2. The Second Time

**Life Support**

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The second time it happens, he's trying to burn some steam working out and lifting weights. He was pissed off at a lot of things, different events and circumstances that just didn't seem to be going in his favor lately. Things hadn't turned out the way he had wanted from the meeting in Gotham. And to make matters worse, the shareholders meeting in Star City had kept him from Metropolis two weeks longer than he had intended.

But the main root of his anger was Chloe Sullivan.

When he had awoken (about an hour or two after they had destroyed his kitchen), he reached his arm out for her; for a second round of the best sex either of them have ever had, and it was then that Oliver Queen had realized two things. One, Chloe was not beside him—she was gone. And two, his door, that was open during their spontaneous sex, that had remained open when he had passed out beside her earlier, was closed.

He last saw her gasping for air on his floor before drifting to sleep, and since then she had successfully avoided every one of his phone calls and ignored even the short and familiar e-mails.

Oliver was frustrated. He understood that she might not want to talk about it—she hadn't said much that night that led him to believe she would want to talk at all. And it's not as if Oliver wasn't use to one-night stands—_granted_ he was usually using one instead of being one.

But when he hadn't heard anything, not even a simple change of topic e-mail, he knew things were now going to be awkward between them, the last thing he wanted.

He wondered if the team would notice.

During their meeting two days ago, he was almost sure Clark knew, as if his x-ray vision was some kind of black-light and could see the visible awkwardness between Chloe and himself that just screamed: "sex."

But Chloe carried on as if nothing had happened. At first, that made it more awkward for him, because he was the only one feeling weird about everything.

Then he was relieved. Their friendship could go on as if the whole thing had never happened. As if she hadn't strolled into his apartment and seduced him, leading him to bending her back against his counter and having the hottest spontaneous sex he's ever had the pleasure of.

Then he was pissed. How could she act like nothing happened after sex like _that?_ She shouldn't have been able to move from the floor, let alone sneak out quietly without waking him.

She couldn't try and pass it all of as him being delusional, or dreaming—because he still had the cuts on his back to prove it had happened, and he would bet his company, she had almost identical matching wounds. And he was willing to lift her shirt in front of the JL if she tried to deny it.

Needless to say, every thing had resulted in him presently obtaining the training room—and he had been in there for almost three hours now, lifting weights, doing crunches, push-ups—the works. The perspiration that slid, glistening his tan skin was evidence of his hard work ethic, and as far as he was concerned, he was still furious, so he wasn't close to being done.

Between the music, and the vein throbbing in his head, he wasn't aware of anyone else until the footsteps sounded beside him. Oliver glanced up from his seated position, pausing in mid-crunch to see the blond woman currently responsible for his fuming emotions, standing over him.

She was in the same sweat pants and hoodie she had appeared in at his penthouse over two weeks ago. And his gut was telling him that she probably wasn't wearing any undergarments again. He tried to ignore the drool welling in his mouth at the thought.

After all, he was still pissed that she had left him naked and alone, on his kitchen floor. He wrung his arms around his knees, as he stayed seated on the floor, casting a glare up in her direction.

_They were going to discuss this—what happened between them. And she was going to get a mouthful from him for sure._

He opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind—_and_ her black sweat pants fell, leaving her smooth legs bare as the dark fabric pooled around her ankles.

_Or not._

Oliver felt his mouth almost drop, and without realizing it, he licked his lips as he studied her creamy toned stems. He didn't know if he should dare himself to see if she was wearing undergarments this time. He wasn't sure how to react if she wasn't.

The gray hoodie fell to the side of the pants, and she stepped out from around them, lowing herself to his level.

Oliver leaned back, slightly startled—first time that had ever happened when a naked girl approached him.

He tried to keep his eyes on her face, to figure out what Chloe was doing or feeling, and why. But Chloe's expression was vague; her green eyes a darker shade than he had ever seen them. They rivaled the leather he dawned in the dark of the night in the name of justice, and they were less transparent than when she normally let her emotions shine through, almost as if these eyes were masking an emotion, a secret identity not ready to be exposed.

Her hands cupped his bare shoulders and she steadied herself to sit on his lap.

"Chloe—"

Her perky nipples brushed against the sleek, naked flesh of his chest as she leaned in and captured his lips and Oliver could only groan in appreciation.

Superman's weakness was kryptonite.

Oliver Queen's "Achilles' heel" happened to be sex with women.

Her fingers spread over the hard skin of his chiseled chest and up his shoulders, resulting in small jolts of shivers from his sensitive skin. Chloe shoved him hard, sending his back colliding against the wall behind him, while she hoisted herself above his lap, eager hands dipping low, passed the waistband of his pants.

Her supple lips don't break contact from his once, while she completely unhinges him from his body. Oliver believes this is an out-of-body experience. Because while he can feel Chloe's hands, her lips, her breasts brushing against his chest with every breath she intakes, and every push and move she makes, and he knows that all of that is in fact real—at the same time it's like she's hitting him with another three-ton truck, pushing him over the ledge just to pull him back again.

She doesn't kiss like the reporter he knows—like how he would have thought modest Watchtower kissed. She doesn't kiss like any woman he's ever known either—she's everywhere. Like he's her favorite Almond-mocha latte and she needs her taste buds to be drenched in his existence, swallowing every last drop of him.

He gulps, suddenly picturing the devotion of her mouth placed on his erection, and he swears he almost swallowed her tongue. With a forceful nudge, she sends him smacking his head against the wall, and he's about to apologize for his carelessness when she lowers herself onto him, enveloping him in a hot, slick path that he swears he could call sanctuary.

Oliver's eyes flutter closed, and he moans in response, overly pleased with her actions. And while he's not use to the woman dominating, and taking action in the bedroom (even though, so far, he and Chloe had yet to make it to one), he's enjoying the benefits immensely.

Chloe's hands are back on his shoulders for support. Her thighs tighten, her knees cornering into his hips as she steadies herself while straddling him. He feels her breathe, her chest pushing against his again, rather than hears her inhale, and she lifts her hips slowly, drawing a slow breath from him as she does.

She slid back down on him as if she was in slow motion, and Oliver hissed in response, his eyes springing open.

Her leisurely methods are too slow for him, as if she's trying to torture him for information, and he's too aware they're not touching _enough_.

Pushing up to meet her hips, he collides into her in a way he's sure he didn't remember correctly—because he seriously underrated their sex before.

She gasps at his sharp thrust, and her hips lift up, hovering and shaking. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her so tightly against his body, he can't tell where he ends and she begins.

One hand steady on her lower back to keep her still, his other hand glides up the spine of her silky smooth back, tenderly, skimming back down and repeating the action, causing her to quiver against him, shaking him from her inside and out.

His brows furrow for a moment as he realizes she's not sporting his matching battle-scars from their last session.

Before he can dwell on the thought however, Chloe arches into him, the friction of their bodies pressing together, burying him into a side, an angle of Chloe he had yet to explore.

An incoherent murmur escapes her lips, and before he can decipher whether it was from pleasure or pain, the back of the brick wall is jutting into his bare skin as he sits smothered between it and Chloe.

Her lips are more feverish than when they last brushed his, and he's holding in the air in his burning lungs just to keep up with her.

She plants her hands on each side of him, trapping him and clutching the brick wall for leverage as she pulls herself up. Her hot passage gripping him up, until only his tip remains inside of her.

Oliver blinked, trying to acknowledge the sensation rippling through his body, from his skin to his inner and core muscles. And he feels himself gulp with anticipation for her next movement.

Instead of sheathing him once more, she flicks her hips, and his head falls on her shoulder.

"Damn it, Chloe," he curses through gritted teeth.

She only responds by rotating her waist slightly, causing him to take a sharp intake of air.

He whisks one hand up the nape of her neck, and through her soft hair, gripping her by the flaxen locks as if holding onto her like this is the only way to remain sane while she tortures him with another slow grind. Her breath hitches by his ear as she lowers down on him again, the hot heat over his ear, tensing him.

Oliver tugs on her hair using one-tenth of his strength, pulling her head back and exposing her neck to him. He leans in, touching his lips to her throat, a rapid pulse right below his mouth. The beat only makes him want to devour her more, and he grazes his lips straight down, right in the valley in between her breasts, darting his tongue out to appreciatively sample her.

The unexpected action causes her to jump, her muscles tightening and squeezing him. His head drops to her shoulder, and he hears a moan croak out, but he can't tell if its his, or hers, or both.

Using the wall beneath her palms again for leverage, Chloe started to increase her pace, all the while constricting her lower muscles each time he's fully inside her.

Oliver hissed, and spread his fingers along the smooth skin of her hips to try and steady her rhythm, kneading her skin under his fingertips with slight pressure as he pulled her against him. Chloe pushes herself down on him in response, gyrating her hips.

Squeezing her body tightly against his, he thrusts upwards, almost in complete fulfillment at the feeling of their skin, sweaty from the friction, crashing against the others.

"Oliver," she moans his name like a warning, and for the first time all night, he realizes how long he's been waiting for her to utter his name, and it's just the motivation he needs to anxiously pound up into her even harder than before.

Her breathing's coming in shorter gasps, completely uneven as she's coming undone herself, and as Oliver continues to meet her hips with as much fury as the last. He feels like it's his first surf lesson in his favorite vacation spot, all over again. Riding against Chloe was like riding against the waves.

Each crash against her left him with more adrenaline and determination, and somehow thirsty for more. When her waves of passion collapsed over him, swallowing and drowning him in something that would definitely change his life after he caught his breath. She clings to him the way he would cling to his surfboard—determined not to go under, as their bodies' rock against each other's. But as she shook in his arms, he knew they both already had, and he felt himself give in completely.

A low shudder passed through his own body, and Oliver felt Chloe's body slack into his, her arms falling from the wall and down at his side as she tried regain her breath.

He pulls back, and Chloe cranks her neck back to look up at him. Her green eyes wide and still dark, and Oliver swears she's about to say something about what's transpired between them, maybe the _why_ of it.

But instead of an explanation she breaks from his gaze, and lowers her eyes to fixate on the corner of the room.

Without a second thought, he throws her down on the gym mat a few feet in front of them, sending her lying naked, flat on her back, a stunned look on her face.

Before she can move, Oliver kicks off his sweat pants and sends his green boxer-briefs off from him, and somewhere in the training room instead. Lowering himself down to her, his hands grasp her hips with insistence and he pulls her forward, just letting his already hard again, length press against her slick entrance in both a teasing and foreshadowed manner.

"Round two, sidekick," He says while flashing a smirk at her.

Even though he's pretty sure it's technically round three for them total. Regardless, Oliver's always preferred it when his sports went into overtime, so he's not counting on round two, or three to be their last.

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He had possibly exhausted himself too much—after their third time that night, Oliver doesn't remember much afterwards. He can recall all the ways she gasped and moaned, the way her hips would accommodate him, the feeling of her shaking with another orgasm in his arms… But he doesn't remember falling asleep.

There's a loud cough that disturbs his ear, and he wonders if maybe they should move off the floor so she doesn't catch cold.

"Dude," a baritone voice breaks.

Oliver's eyes shoot open, and he immediately turns to his side, reaching out, trying to find Chloe to cover her form, and once again, he comes up empty handed. Just as before, she's re-demonstrated her disappearing act, leaving him naked on the floor—This time for others to find.

To his humiliation, he's completely exposed to his teammate's eyes, though now Victor and AC are avoiding his gaze.

Thankfully, neither Clark nor Dinah were present.

He extends his arm, hurriedly reaching for his discarded sweat pants that are a few feet from him. And pushing himself up, off the gym mat that sticks to his skin awkwardly, he tries as best as he can to shield himself from further embarrassment, while he feels his skin flush at his mortification.

"So… Um, boss-man," Bart's eyes shift uncomfortably over Oliver. "Do you always sleep in the training room… _Naked?"_

Oliver cast a glare in his direction as he stepped into his pants, but the warning goes unread.

"Who knew you could be so freaky… "

The corner of Oliver's lip quirked, "I'm not freaky." Oliver frowned, "And trust me, people will surprise you."

However, as far as Oliver Queen was concerned he was done with surprises. He was going to find Chloe, and this time, he wasn't getting left naked on the floor with no answers.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


	3. The Third Time

**Life Support**

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The third time it occurs, he's even more pissed off than when she had visited him the second time. And he has more than one reason to be. Not only has she left him naked on the floor alone, with no explanation for her hormones, but she's also left him naked and unconscious for their team to find. And apparently, when Chloe Sullivan doesn't want to be found—she makes sure no one can even trail her. Because upon checking her apartment, her office, the Kent's, and Lois's, she's no where to be found.

"Uh… What's this about exactly?" Asked Lois as she followed Oliver into her apartment. He ignored the feeble amount of guilt that seeped from his conscious at seeing his ex-girlfriend, a woman he was once in a long relationship with, hours after he had just had her best friend, her cousin, writhing beneath him.

Instead his eyes roamed over every tiny inch of the apartment. "She's really not here," he stated more than questioned.

"Uh—yeah, that's what I told you." Lois crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her head, nodding towards his phone. "Did you do the normal thing, and try calling her cell phone?"

"Continuously," he replied, pulling out his own cell phone to check for any missed calls: _none_.

Oliver couldn't seem to shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that was like a knife being twisted in his gut, telling him that something was seriously wrong. Something was going down—and worse, it was happening to Chloe.

Lois's brows pulled back as fear widened in her eyes, "Should I be worried?"

He honestly didn't know. But he knew that until he had all the facts, it wasn't a good idea to worry Lois. So Oliver shook his head, "Do you think she'd be at her dad's?" He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, praying to any higher power listening that she wasn't. Because that was most definitely not the place he wanted to have this confrontation.

Before he could see Lois's face fall he quickly added, "Got a computer problem I need to get rid of a.s.a.p."

Lois raised an eyebrow, "And _the_ Oliver Queen couldn't get a hold of Geek Squad?"

He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly, "They can't fit me in till the evening, and I need this taken care of _now_."

"Wasn't aware you and Chloe were so close… "

Oliver refrained from biting his lip as he attempted to dodge Lois's subtle snooping, "This is really urgent, if you see her will you make sure she calls me?"

She squinted her eyes as she studied him, giving him a short nod.

Not wanting to draw any more attention or questions, he left as soon as she had agreed to his request, and headed back to his penthouse. The drive back was silent; having turned off the radio to be left to his wandering thoughts, he only concentrated on his driving, and concerns of Chloe.

Her behavior was definitely off.

Not that she had been acting completely normal before she decided to jump him and give him a joy ride… That was just the flare gun fired that got his full attention that something was seriously wrong with her. He just can't really imagine any form of stress or drama that would propel Chloe into a conclusion where sleeping with him was the answer.

Unless she was being used as a vessel—which made him shiver at the thought and he unconsciously stepped harder on the gas pedal, while he began to go through a mental list of every person who knew Chloe and could pose a threat to her.

He wasn't far in the list when his phone went off, and not wanting to take his eyes off the road, he answered it, hoping, "Chloe?"

"No—but you have Lois kind of freaked out, Oliver," Clark's deep reprimanding tone came through the speaker. "Why are you so worried about Chloe?"

Oliver grimaced and tightened his grip on the wheel; he really didn't want to have this conversation right now. "Have you heard from her?" He ignored Clark's question.

There was a pause, and for a moment, Oliver thought the Blur might have hung up on him. "… No." It was obvious there was a rift between the once best friends, and Oliver hadn't really expected Clark to have any real contact with Chloe; outside of the Blur needing her technical skills. "Are you asking as Oliver Queen or as the Green Arrow?"

"I'm asking as… " He paused and pushed his tongue to his teeth, lost in consideration. While there was something that could be harmful going on with Chloe—if he answered as the Green Arrow, Clark would swoop into the scene and meddle. And at the same time, Chloe had slept with Oliver Queen, not his green leather persona. Which really just meant, at least with his current knowledge, it only involved Oliver Queen. "As her friend. I'm asking as her friend."

His answer seemed to halt Clark's reply as a tense silence drifted over the speaker once more.

"I'm sure Chloe's just preoccupied."

Oliver shook his head in irritation at the one-man-wonder—Not only could he dodge bullets; he could avoid Chloe like it was a newfound super-power. "Yeah," Oliver narrowed his eyes, unsettled by Clark lack of response other than being at ease with the whole situation.

"I have to go," he falsely admitted. "Have to be on a conference call, I'll talk to you later," he improvised an excuse, not wanting to arouse Clark's suspicion.

"Sure, call me later if you need me," Clark seemed to buy the excuse.

And Oliver wondered if the words _"Call me if you see Chloe," _ had even crossed his mind at all.

Hanging up the line, he returned his concentration back to the road, and nearly broke the speed limit pulling his Aston Martin, V8 Vantage, into the parking garage. Parking the car and removing the keys out of the ignition, he dropped them in his lap and ran his hands through his hair. Trying to figure out what the next course of action is.

He's leaving for Star city in two days—and if Chloe plans to keep dodging him like she's a celebrity and he's the paparazzi now, he's not sure how things will be once he returns to Metropolis.

Oliver sighed and exited his car, wishing he could have asked Victor if he could track Chloe by the GPS chip in her cell phone—without him staring at him and asking questions that is.

A flash of blond caught his eyes, and he lifted his gaze to see Chloe entering the elevator to his penthouse.

Oliver didn't hesitate, although in the back of his mind he pondered the reasons of why she was at his place after she steered clear of him for nearly twenty-four hours. He hoped she was there to confide in him, but he couldn't dwell on any of that.

He immediately chased after her, striving to reach her before the elevator closed and gave her another chance to get away from him again. She's moved to the side, pushing a floor number—probably his, and once the correct number is selected she looks up, her green eyes widening when she noticed him running toward her, the elevator slowly closing his only window of opportunity. Oliver reached out and slipped his hands in between the doors before they completely closed and locked him out.

Pushing the doors apart, his eyes thinned as he glared at her so fiercely, he wondered how she didn't manage to look away. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path while the doors closed, trapping her in the small space with him, for at least a good forty floors before they reached his penthouse.

Licking his lips nervously, he willed the several words that came to his mind to force voice, but he could only remain silent as he allowed his mask of anger to slip for a moment while he drank the sight of her in.

She appeared unharmed; lacking any bruises or cuts on any part of her visible skin. And for once, fully clothed, in a gray pin-strip pencil skirt and teal blouse. He pushed his eyes to return to her face once more, and noted how unaffected she seemed. He really had to wonder if there really was any danger at all.

And he had no idea who moved first—all he knew was their lips simultaneously connected, while his fingers threaded in her hair and her hands clasped on the sides of his hips. A low audible sound, which Oliver believed to be a sigh of relief, escaped from Chloe. And he felt his adrenaline increase just to match her need for him.

Their newfound relationship was like a new song with a catchy beat, and their bodies knew the chorus all too well, as she tugged him closer, while he in unison; shoved his body against hers, crushing her in between him and the wall. She jumped up with great reflex, instantly wrapping her legs around him, her skirt riding up her legs, while her arms encircled his neck.

Leaning into her, he took control of the kiss. Prying her mouth open with his, he made it a point to punish her with his tongue, wrestling against hers in the cavern of her mouth. She whimpered when he pulled back, just enough to smash his lips down on hers again in a bruising kiss.

Chloe moaned as he took her bottom lip and sucked on it hard, causing her to squeeze his hips between her thighs. He couldn't honestly believe he had have been with someone so responsive before. A simple touch, any touch, invoked a response from her. He's already as hard as a statue; he doubted they were going to be able to make it to his penthouse.

As if reading his mind, the palm of Chloe's hands drifted down and over his chest, and stopped at his waist to unhook his belt buckle. Hell, he doubted either of them had enough patience to strip at the moment. Treading his hands down her neck and breasts teasingly, he slips his hands below her hips, gripping a handful of her skirt in his hands as he shoves it higher up her thighs.

Chloe placed short kisses to his throat in appreciation. Encouraged further, he snaked his hand up, pushing aside her underwear, he ran a finger along her already wet slit. She bucked her hips in response, and Oliver groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder. He glimpsed back at the lit up numbered buttons, cursing that they still had at least another seventeen floors.

Chloe tugged the zipper on his pants down, and reached for his member, cupping and squeezing him, rubbing her palm against him urgently with need. Oliver didn't have the strength to hold out for the top floor.

Releasing his length from his restricting pants, and her teasing grasp, he pushed her underwear aside and thrust up into her without warning. Her heat surrounded him, nearly knocking the air out of his lungs. He couldn't imagine being inside of her just last night—because she felt too good to be real.

Gripping her hips, he tilted her up just enough at the right angle, and slid out from her, only to slam back in, causing Chloe to throw her head back, her mouth falling open.

"Oh God! Oliver—" She moaned as he repeated his sharp movements, not bothering to taunt her with leisurely strokes. He fiercely shoved himself inside her, burying his cock till it was pressed to her hilt, and a hoarse scream lodged in Chloe's throat as she began to shake with the beginning waves of her orgasm.

She clutched at him harder, her nails digging into his back and through his shirt. Oliver only increased his pace, plummeting deeper inside of her cannel, stroking her from the inside with his throbbing member. He grabbed her hips and rocked her against him, hard.

Chloe tried to keep up, grinding down to meet his hips as he penetrated her intensely, but Oliver was quicker, and as a stronger wave of pleasure hit Chloe, she could only tighten her legs around him while he filled her.

Suddenly, the elevator shifted, indicating they had arrived at their destination, and Oliver paused for a moment, trying to decide whether or not they should continue this inside, or against the walls of his bedroom if not the bed itself.

Before he could make a decision, Chloe reached out and pressed a finger to a random button, selecting another floor. The doors closed, and they were back on their way down the tower. Oliver showed his gratitude by sinking back into her depth, over and over. Answering each cry of her pleasure by embedding himself in her again.

Her breathing was coming in shorter grasps, as her back arched, pushing herself up from the wall, and into him, her breasts grazing his chest, while her fingers tugged on the short strands of his hair as a strangled cry broke out from her throat, causing him to drive into her wildly, as he completely broke and let go of the small part of restraint he was maintaining.

Her inner-walls clenched around him, while her entire body, inside and out trembled, and pulsed around him. And Oliver felt the floor fall out from under them as he climaxed inside of her, both of them shaking and slipping to the floor, trying to catch their breath.

Chloe gulped for air, and disentangled herself from him, leaning back against the wall for support.

The release of his endorphins had Oliver still shuddering. The fact that he had just had sex with Chloe, in his elevator, was still reeling in his mind, and he almost didn't believe it had just happened—he was tempted to check his security tapes later, because after moments like this, Chloe was gone, making him feel as though he had imagined it. Hallucinated her writhing all around him, incapacitating him. But she was still here, in the elevator with him.

And knowing the camera had caught it all on tape; he couldn't fight the foolish grin spreading over his lips.

Chloe shifted, straightening out her clothes from their new adventure, and Oliver did the same, tucking himself back into his pants, despite wanting to haul her up to his penthouse for another go. The memory of chasing after Chloe all over, trying to track her down seeped back into his mind. And Oliver frowned, cursing himself slightly for getting so distracted and entranced.

He then felt the elevator shift again, slowing down to indicate an upcoming stop.

"Sorry Sidekick," Oliver beamed down at her. "But I want some answers."

Before she could stop him, or the elevator could halt altogether, he leaned cross the space between them, trapping Chloe in the corner as he pushed the emergency stop button, officially stopping it all together. The elevator jolted slightly, and then froze in between the floors, per Oliver's action. He turned to her, watching her emerald gems dawn with realization of his actions.

"You're not getting away this time," he smirked down at her. "And you're not leaving me naked on the floor again."

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


	4. The Fourth Time

**Life Support**

**

* * *

  
**

Despite the fact that their bodies had been intimately joined, just moments ago, they were currently as far away from each other as they could possibly get, while being trapped in his elevator. They stood on opposite sides of the elevator, with their backs against a wall, as distant as if they were strangers.

Chloe exhaled slowly, her shoulders tensing, "I'm not sure I follow you… " She avoided his gaze

Oliver tilted his head to the side, not giving her a chance to break eye contact, "Chloe… " She seemed nervous, and he could understand that, considering he did just lock her in a four by six feet elevator. But he didn't want her to be afraid of him; she had no reason to be. "I'm not mad… Not as long, as it was consensual, on your part."

At his words, she lifted her head to look at him, "Consensual?" A brow was lifted with uncertainty to his meaning.

He took one step closer to her, "Tell me that's you inside there," he gestured towards her body.

"You think I'm… A vessel?"

"I'm hoping you didn't say _'kneel before Zod'_ while I was… " His eyes drifted over her curves, filling with lust, before he took the risk of glancing back at her again, "Too distracted to hear anything coherent."

Chloe snorted, "I'm not Zod… Or any other Kandorian."

Instant relief washed over him, though none of that explained the reason she had kissed him at all to begin with.

"What's wrong then?" Oliver cursed himself for not thinking before he spoke, so that he could possibly have softened his phrase.

"What's… Wrong?" Chloe repeated; sounding confused.

Oliver shrugged his shoulder, "Well yeah—why did you kiss me?"

"Kiss… You… " Chloe bit her lip for a second before smirking back at him, "Why did you kiss me back?" She was being evasive.

Oliver opened his mouth to respond but froze in mid-thought, leaving his mouth agape.

Why had he kissed her back?

He felt his brow furrow.

She nudged her head in his direction, "If you don't have any answers, why should I?" Her words were wrapped up in a bitter tone.

And Oliver scowled, moving forward again until he had her completely backed into the corner of the elevator like before, only this time, he wasn't going to be hiking up her skirt and shoving his tongue down her throat.

"But you do have the answers, Chloe. That's the difference here." She raised her chin, and looked into his eyes as he continued. "I'm you're friend, okay?—Your _friend_. We slept together—" His lip twitched slightly as he faltered for a second, "And that's… Different for us, but I'm still your friend."

Chloe sighed, and leaned against the wall, tilting her head to look up at the fluorescent lights above them.

"How can you not trust me?" He was pleading with her now, to open up to him. To let him help her in any way he could.

"I trust you," she said after what seemed like several moments of silence. She finally turned back to glimpse at him. "That's why I went to you that night… I didn't—" She let out another sigh that shook her whole frame. "I didn't trust Clark enough to go to him…"

That shocked him. He knew they had been at opposite ends since his return, maybe even before that, but he never even suspected she'd rather turn to him than Clark. He wasn't sure where that put her circumstance on the scale of trouble. He was treading in new territory now.

His voice dropped as he asked his next question, almost scared of the answer, "What… Happened?"

She pursed her lips, "Don't really know."

Oliver exhaled sharply, growing impatient, "Chloe… " He drew her name out like a warning.

Chloe lifted her shoulders as an answer, "I really don't." She pushed off from the wall, and dodged to his side, despite the fact that there was nowhere to go. "I woke up on a metal slab."

That answer stunned him.

He whirled around to face her, "What!?"

Chloe continued, "I don't know how, I don't know why. But I woke up, naked under a white sheet, feeling… Cold."

He remembered how cold her skin had been when his skin had connected with hers that night.

Oliver blinked, "What are you saying, Chloe?"

"That I woke up in a morgue?" She said it so easily, as if it was an every day occurrence, or a funny punch line to a rehearsed joke, but her green eyes were dark, with not even a trace of humor.

He licked his lips, "How is that—"

"Possible?" Her reply seemed snarky.

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

"We never told you… And really, it's not like there was time… Between Lex, and Lana… And Brainiac," she rambled off the excuses.

Oliver shook his head, trying to make everything clear, "Chloe you're not making any sense."

"I was meteor-infected… " Chloe grimaced, "_Am_ meteor-infected."

That didn't explain… Anything really. And his confusion must have been evident on his features because she continued.

"We discovered it on accident—my _powers_," the word came out twisted, mirroring how distasteful it was to her, "didn't manifest at the same speed as the others'."

Oliver crossed his arms, trying to take in her words as he listened to her, to comprehend everything he had missed, that they had decided to keep him in the dark about.

"What are your…" He glanced at her, "Powers, exactly?"

She suddenly became more serious, "I heal people."

His gaze lowered to the floor as he studied what she had just shared.

That didn't seem so bad. It wasn't like it was damaging to other people, or a curse, like the manifestation of her mother's powers. Out of all the one's he had come across actually, in all the missions and thirty-three point one, take downs, Chloe seemed to be the luckiest out of all of the meteor-infected.

"I take on their injuries."

His brown eyes swept up to hers, "… What does that entail, precisely?"

"If the person had a cut, and I touched them, they were healed, meanwhile, I needed to make a run for a first aid kit," her voice had that, 'matter-of-fact' tone. Like this conversation was nothing more than a procedure.

That didn't explain how she woke up on a metal slab.

"To what extent do you heal injuries?"

She became uncomfortable with the slight turn of the topic, and she averted her eyes to the right corner. "Lois… Died."

Oliver's lips slipped from their straight line of neutrality. Lois hadn't died. He had never received a phone call, never attended a funeral, and she had certainly never let it slip in everyday conversation.

Chloe's eyes started to water at the memory, and just looking at her, he knew she was telling the truth.

"That's why you sounded so un-phased when you brought up the morgue… You've woken up there before."

Chloe swiped her tears away before they could fall, "Well, not the same morgue, or the same way—but you are correct."

Her ability wasn't so much of a miracle after all. Naturally—because the universe demanded balance, and if no one was to be injured, or die, that would tip the scales.

"How many times?"

Her brows lifted back in surprise, "How many times have I woken up in a morgue?"

Oliver glared at her for not taking this seriously, "How many times have you _died_, Chloe?"

For some reason, she was hesitant to answer him, "Two… Before my ability... Disappeared."

He raised his eyebrow at her answer, "Disappeared?"

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Probably one of the reasons we never mentioned it to you—after Brainiac, they were simply… Gone."

"Gone?" Oliver leaned back against the elevator wall. "I don't understand."

Chloe leaned back as well, seeming to relax for the first time in months. "Neither do I. But they were gone—I tried to heal Clark, and it didn't work out. And you know what?" She turned and looked at him, her eyes gleaming with liberation. "I was horrified I couldn't heal him… But afterwards, when he was okay, and at the end of the day when the world was safe and I was alone in my room?—I was _relieved_." She let out a breath as if she had been holding it for years. "I didn't ask to be cursed, I didn't want to wind up crazy, or hurting people… I was thrilled that I couldn't be used to heal a monster like Lex Luthor again."

Oliver flinched at the name, but couldn't ask her what had happened. His imagination was running ahead of him with the scenario. But no matter how hard he tried; he couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her to shoulder the repercussions of her healing factor.

"I was so happy to be free of that burden," her voice cracked, as she seemed to swallow a lump in her throat. "And then my husband is murdered… " He witnessed her tears fall, spilling from her eyes and cascading down her cheeks; as she recalls the memory of her ex-husband, their friend, dying. "Cosmic justice, or something," she sniffled, trying to ignore her moment of weakness.

"Chloe… " He felt as though his heart was being pinched at her words.

"They've returned. I don't know how—I don't know _why_. I don't even remember what happened before I woke up on that cold table—but they're back."

"Maybe not," he tried to reassure her. "I mean, someone could have just kidnapped you and been planning on using you as a vessel, or a lab-rat or something." The elevator started up again, shifting up in the direction towards his penthouse, and he straightened up from the wall. "We'll make a list of all the people capable of—"

"I remember what it's like dying Oliver," she cut him off. "And I remember how dead I feel when I wake up hours later… That feeling—it doesn't go away, not really."

His stomach turned, "But if you don't remember healing anyone—"

"I healed you, Oliver."

Oliver haltered at her admission, "What?"

"Back in the training room?—When we had sex? You still had the cuts on your back, the ones that were a result of the broken glass, from the first time I went to you… "

He remembered the previous night, the second time she had come to him, which had resulted in him waking up naked, to their teammates the next day; neither Victor nor AC had made any comments about the cuts, nor did Bart whistle and ask if he had a good time. And now with the knowledge, he realized he had been too obsessed with finding her to realize the small wounds that covered his back were completely gone.

At the realization, he recalled how last night, as his hand had slid up her back, he had momentarily wondered how her skin hadn't matched his, when he had been sure the glass had dug into her flesh as well.

And if what she was saying happened to be true, as he already knew it was, the proof would be on her back.

Hovering over her, he held her gaze. "Show me," he uttered in a hushed whisper.

She kept his eyes locked with hers as she studied him for a moment before relinquishing at his request. Her hands went to her silk blouse as her fingers fumbled with the buttons, unclasping each one before parting her shirt and letting it slip off her shoulders. Standing in her black bra and gray skirt without a hint of shame, she turned away from him, allowing him to see the red slits that marred her perfectly snow white skin.

"Chloe—" Oliver felt his voice break as he reached out to touch her gently. She didn't flinch at the touch of his fingers. But that didn't stop the guilt from surrounding him.

He hadn't known they were there when he had thrown her onto the floor and hammered into her, the previous night. He wasn't aware of their existence he shoved her against the wall of the elevator just a little while ago…

"When I awoke on that table, I felt so… Empty inside," she interrupted his remorseful thoughts. "I couldn't… I didn't… "

He let his fingers brush down her neck, trailing her spine as he took in the shallow wounds she had taken from him.

"I needed a friend," Chloe choked out, trying to hold back the sobs rising in her throat. "But I just wanted to feel alive again."

That explained her impulsive decision to jump him. Chloe had awoken to confusion, guilt, and an uncontrollable numbness. She had felt so lost. Shameful for having the abilities she once scorned, that could have ultimately saved Jimmy, returned after she couldn't use them to heal her broken heart.

Oliver now understood. She could heal others, but after the effects wore off—Chloe needed someone to heal herself.

She couldn't trust Clark with that. Not after the way he had treated her lately. And though she hadn't meant to come to Oliver for sex—it did make her feel alive. Her pleasure had probably washed away the cold numb feeling she couldn't rid herself of, and shaken the guilt away.

Truthfully, he didn't know why he had kissed her back that night, the first time it happened… And the fourth time it happened, he didn't know why he hadn't turned away from her, even after knowing of her reasons; he just knew he couldn't.

Brushing the short blond hairs off the back of her neck, he placed a soft kiss to her skin there.

She stilled at the action, "Oliver?"

One hand unclasped her bra, while the other tugged the zipper at the back of her skirt down. His hands returned to her hips, giving a light push as her skirt slipped off, perfectly in sync with the elevator doors opening to his floor, as if he had planned it.

Turning her back around to face him, he avoided her searching eyes, and dropped his head to her breasts, as he encased one of her nipples in his mouth, trying to give her the answer his voice couldn't.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she whimpered instantly, her arms wrapping around his back as her hands tugged on the strands of his hair.

He lifted her easily, pulling her out from the elevator, and into his living room without removing his lips from her. Stumbling, they landed on his couch, her sitting in his lap as swirled his tongue around the hard bud, nibbling just slightly.

Chloe cried out in response, her hips stabbed up and into his sharply, causing him to pull away and hiss.

With one hand at her lower back, steadying her, he undid and removed his shirt, shrugging out of the sleeves before pulling her to him, till her naked upper body was against his. The skin on skin contact causing him to groan, he dipped his freehand between them, to undo his pants for the second time that night, before his hesitation stopped him. And he began to question if he was making the right decision.

He couldn't help feeling like some sort of scumbag, taking advantage of one of his only friends, in their time of weakness.

Before he could voice his doubts, a hand smaller than his was reaching down into his open pants, and grasping his erect member.

"Please don't stop, Oliver," Chloe's voice itched with ache. "Don't stop," she whispered against his lips.

And any self-restraint he might have had crumbled.

Spinning her around so that her back was facing him, he kneeled her down above his lap. Grasping her hip with one hand, he led her down on his shaft, pulling her down to him, not stopping until he was entirely inside of her.

He slid is other hand over her flat torso, and up passed her chest, and across her throat, to cup her neck, just under her jaw. Chloe tilted her head, leaning into his touch. Clutching her hip still, Oliver raised her up slowly, watching as her back arched, another small whimper surpassing her lips, this time at the loss of him.

He pulled her body back down on him, and thrust his hips upwards as he kept his hold on her. Chloe moaned, appreciative of his stroke, and started moving her hips under his guiding hand. One of her hands came to rest on his just over her hip, while the other reached up to lay on his arm. She squeezed him gently beneath her palms, and below her fingers, needing to grip onto something as he increased their pace.

She was riding him with urgency now, and as she grinded her hips down to meet his, he wasn't sure who was setting the pace anymore. He only tightened his grip, holding her tightly as their sweaty skin slicked against each other's. He drove into her, his cock pulsing as it brushed her inner walls, and he heard Chloe gasp, and felt her inner-muscles clench around him, in reaction.

Oliver shuddered at the feeling of her collapsing around his length, and pulled out quickly, embedding himself back into her at the same angle. Causing Chloe to go completely still as she merely gripped onto him, her fingers curling around his arm.

Squeezing her hip, he forced her up again, until just the tip of him was remaining inside of her.

Chloe bucked her hips, searching for the rest of him, as she mumbled, pleading with him.

Obliging her wishes, he was immersed back within in her, this time not fighting the insistent rhythm of their bodies colliding together. Oliver felt Chloe's walls clamp around him, and he watched as her back curved into an arc as her release teetered on the edge of them both.

Inclining forward, Oliver brushed his lips over the diminutive lesions on her back, and then felt Chloe shiver, her muscles quivering and tightening around him so hard, he couldn't hold back any longer, and he let go of his own release, his fingers around her hip seizing onto her as he lost control.

Oliver exhaled slowly, trying to regain control of his breathing. Chloe fell back into his frame, panting with exhaustion, and he felt her pulse just below the palm of his other hand, the wild thumping vibrating against her throat.

Chloe had saved him from himself, when he had given up and sunk into the dark cracks of despair. She gave him hope, even when he refused it at first. And while Chloe herself was falling into a different darkness of her own, apparently, Oliver could make her feel alive.

And at that, he decided he could be there for her, until she didn't need life support anymore; when she didn't need him to revive her anymore.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


	5. The Fifth Time

**Life Support**

**

* * *

  
**

"We need to set some ground rules," he heard her words from behind him while he was buttoning up his shirt from their recent tackle on his couch.

Turning around, he faced a fully clothed Chloe, "Ground rules?" He quirked an eyebrow; not quite sure what to expect or how to respond.

Chloe continued to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt, "Yeah—rule number one: no one can know about this."

Inwardly, he grimaced at the thought of someone from the league or Lois catching them in the act. He wouldn't even know where to begin in trying to explain what they were doing. And if anyone found out, people could be hurt. Casualties like Lois, and depending on how serious Bart was about his crush on Chloe, him as well.

Truth was, none of that had really crossed his mind when he was beneath, or against Chloe these past few days. And while pursuing her for answers, he never gave thought to the consequences of their actions. Though Lois was happy with exploring her newfound relationship with Clark, he was positive a part of her would feel betrayed by him and her cousin, if this whole thing with Chloe came out.

He nodded in agreement, "No one—got it."

Chloe held his gaze, "I mean it Oliver… We have to be careful."

Oliver sighed and licked his lips, concurring once again, "Careful."

Chloe seemed to pale, "Speaking of… Rule number two: we have to be _careful_."

Oliver stilled at her words, immediately grasping onto her meaning.

"I'm ninety-percent sure waking from the dead means I'm not fertile for a couple hours—but from now on, we need to take extra measures," she spoke calmly, and seemed to hold her composure, but as soon as the last word left her lips they both seemed to let out a breath they had, unknowingly, been holding.

Oliver gulped, and suddenly loosened the collar around his neck, "Be prepared, got it."

Chloe's face hardened, "Third rule: no strings attached, no feelings, no dinners or dates and no phone calls other than business."

_No romantic entanglements_—he heard her loud and clear.

"Which is why we should stick to just intercourse, no foreplay," she suggested, and moved on to the next rule. "And the fourth rule: this absolutely does not happen at the Watchtower."

Oliver's mouth opened, about to ask why when anyone could walk in on them at his place, when he remembered the Watchtower she now operated at had been a wedding present from her now deceased, ex-husband. Closing his mouth, he nodded once more, completely agreeing and silently signing a contract of commitment to helping Chloe, his friend and teammate—in anyway he could.

"Thank you, Oliver," he barely heard her whispered words before she was placing on her high-heels and retreating towards the elevator. "I'll contact you when I need you."

Meaning; don't seek her out—which led back to rule number three, if he remembered correctly.

He watched the elevator close, concealing her from his vision and he exhaled. Despite her rules, he knew enough about these situations that nothing went according to plan.

There were multiple reasons this could blow up in his face; someone finding out, Chloe being attacked, or losing her power again and not waking up, and with that last thought, her rules were the least of his concern.

He knew they should be collecting information on people who would know of Chloe's abilities, enemies that could plot and harm her.

But clearly, Chloe had enough to deal with already. With her guilt and confusion, added to her broken heart, she wasn't ready to deal with anything else just yet.

And Oliver couldn't blame her—he wouldn't rush her.

* * *

He hadn't heard from her in two weeks—since the last time, after the fourth time, when she made those four rules they were supposed to abide by. And they were. He hadn't called her unnecessarily, and vice versa. Unfortunately, two days after their last tryst, he had been called back to Star City for a board meeting at Queen Industries.

And while he was reluctant to go, with his fears of wondering what Chloe would do if she woke up in a morgue again or in a ditch somewhere—she had insisted she would be fine, and refused to accompany him, for fear of any of their teammates speculating if there was anything going on between them.

Regrettably, the trip had lasted longer than he had cared for it to. And he was just boarding his jet, getting ready to head back to Metropolis when his cell phone rang.

Flipping it open without glancing at it, he pressed it to his ear, "Queen," he spoke while tossing his duffle bag into an empty chair.

"Have you heard from Chloe?" The sheer panic from Lois erupted through the speaker resting against his ear.

"Uh—hi, Lois, good to hear from you too," he muttered sarcastically, trying not to let her question plague him. "No, I haven't talked to Chloe in a few days. Why?"

"She's missing!—Why would I be calling you if she was at home, or work, or whatever she does?" Her irritated tone went up an octave.

Oliver licked his lips nervously, "Have you spoken to Clark?"

"We both went by her place—she's not there, her computers were on sleep mode, she's not answering our phone calls," Lois took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "Clark's out checking the hospitals and police stations, and he told me to call and ask you since you had this problem with her last time you were in town."

Oliver rolled his eyes, "I'm scheduled for my jet to leave in thirty-minutes. I'll help you look for her as soon as I land."

"Thank you," Lois uttered. "I'm calling my father to get a favor from the National Guard or something."

Before he could talk her out of it, there was a beep, signaling another call on his line. Pulling back and glancing at the phone, Oliver read Chloe's name on the screen.

"Lois, I have to go," and without another word he clicked over. "Chloe? Chloe are you alright?"

"… Oliver," Her voice sounded cracked, as if her throat was dry. "I-I… Help, Oliver… I need your help." He heard her murmur into the phone.

He froze for a moment at her words, trying to collect his thoughts and remain as calm as possible. "Chloe, where are you?"

"H-Home… " Her teeth were chattering as he tried to make out her words.

"Stay there—I'm on my way, it's at most a four hour flight… " He turned to his pilot, "We needed to be in Metropolis an hour ago."

His pilot for over ten years looked shocked by his words, "Sir, you scheduled for us to leave the airport at—"

"I know," Oliver cut him off, covering the phone and holding it away from him. "This is an emergency."

The pilot nodded, "I'll try to get us clearance immediately." He started to head to the cockpit, "Sir, you'll have to take your seat now."

Oliver moved to his own seat, and turned his attention back to his phone, "Chloe, we're leaving now. I need you to call Lois, she and Clark are looking for you."

He didn't know what bullshit story Chloe was going to feed her cousin, who was suspicious of everything. But he knew Chloe wouldn't want them there when he showed up. And Oliver knew explaining that her powers had returned was not an option, as far as Chloe was concerned yet—otherwise she wouldn't have called him first.

Oliver spent the entire flight imagining horrible scenarios Chloe had gone through. He hadn't been able to ask where she had woken up this time. For her sanity he only wished it wasn't in another cold mortuary. His greatest fear would be her being unconscious while some doctor or coroner demanded an autopsy. That thought wouldn't leave his brain as he tormented himself with gruesome mental images.

Before the plane landed he made one call to confirm that both a limo or Lincoln car, and his V8 Vantage were waiting for him at the airport on his arrival. And once the plane arrived in Metropolis airport, he gave orders for his bags to be delivered to his penthouse, while he jumped down the steps and made his way to his car. After practically ripping the door off, he climbed in and started the engine, and squeaking the tires as he sped off in the direction of the Watchtower.

It took minutes, despite the busy streets, for him to arrive outside of Chloe's place, but he was there as fast as possible and racing up the steps and pounding his fist against her door, hollering for her.

When she didn't answer he twisted the doorknob, relieved that she hadn't locked it when it didn't stick, and he opened the door, walking in at a slower pace than he had been using just moments ago.

"Chloe?" He called, entering the main room, looking around, and at no sign of her, wondering if she was possibly in her bedroom. Making his way down the hall, he heard the faint sound of running water, and headed to what he believed to be the bathroom. "Chloe?" He knocked against the door, but gained no reply.

Turning the handle, he entered the bathroom to see what looked to be a stunned Chloe, in a pair of doctor scrubs, sitting in her tub with the shower running water over her. The scrubs confirmed his terror of her waking up in the coroner's office, to be more than just a nightmare.

He leaned towards the tub, kneeling beside her, slightly shaken by her catatonic state. It had been four hours since she had called him—how long did it take for her to shake from this?

"Chloe?" He tried again, but she barely acknowledged his presence, and he barely noticed her shivering under the warm water. "Chloe how long have you been in here?"

Her gaze turned towards his for the first time, and he was shocked at the color of her eyes—while still green, they appeared dark and almost lifeless.

"Cold," she mumbled. "I got in here," she seemed to swallow a lump in her throat as she tried to continue speaking to him, "when the water was hot… "

He reached across from, the water raining down on him, and he felt the lukewarm temperature and frowned. Standing up, he kicked off his shoes and socks and stepped into the tub. He crouched down beside her again, ignoring the water soaking his clothes as he wrapped an arm under her legs and around her back, picking her up into his arms, ready to carry her, "We have to get you out of here."

Chloe shook her head, "No, please." She pleaded with him. "S-Still cold."

"Chloe—" He started, but paused when he felt her arms sling around his neck, her fingers gently, almost hesitantly rubbing the small hairs just at the nape of his neck.

Oliver let out a hushed breath, and closed his eyes, "Can you stand?"

He felt her head nod against his chest, "I think so."

"Okay," he told her, "I'm setting you down now." Once she was on her own two feet, he reached behind himself, spinning the hot water handle over as far as it would go, the temperature rising only slightly from where it had been. "We do this, we do it right," Oliver pulled his black tie loose from his collar and threw it to the floor. Shrugging out of his jacket, he flung it on the floor as well, leaving him in a dark dress shirt that started to cling tighter to his body with each droplet of water that fell over him.

He reached for Chloe again, ensnaring his fingers in her wet hair as he jerked her towards him, crashing his lips against hers. He felt her lean into him, nearly melting against him as she matched his kiss with twice the need. Sensing her ache, he pried her lips open and slid his tongue against hers, trying to hold back the groan that was rising at the back of his throat.

One of her legs swung to the side of his hip, but Oliver pushed it back down gently, and tugged his lips from hers. She let out a low whine at his action and he had to tell his ego now was not the time to smirk. Instead, he slipped his fingers beneath the teal scrub, grasping the ends and dragging the shirt up over Chloe's head. Throwing it to sop on the tile floor, he then descended to the matching pants hugging her hips.

Slipping his fingers below the waistband, he gently ushered the pants down her legs, letting her step out of them before they joined the matching top out of the tub, leaving her completely bare to him.

Shifting closer to her, he was about to pick her up again, when her hands spread over his chest, roaming and undoing each button until his shirt was open. Placing her palms just over his shoulders, she slipped the fabric down his arms, and immediately went to unbuckle his pants.

Suddenly he heard alarm bells in his head going off. And he gripped both her hands, "Wait, _wait_," he repeated as she tried to break his hold. When she stopped trying to fight him, he reached behind him to his back pocket, and pulled out a condom. Still holding her hands, he brought the condom to his lips, and tore it open with his teeth. "Wouldn't want to break that rule," he flashed her a grin as he let her hands go.

She continued her previous task, and once she had unzipped his pants, she pushed them down off his hips, taking his boxers with them. He slid his hand between them, trying to pull the condom over his erection, while the water poured over him.

Once completely on, he slipped his hands to hers hips, grasping them tightly as he hoisted her up, and pinned her against the wall. Her legs instantly circled his waist, and whimpered once more at the feeling of his tip brushing at her opening.

"Ollie," Chloe moaned for the first time, raising her hips in anticipation for him.

He paused at his name, not quite sure he heard her right. Or if he did hear her correctly, he didn't like the way it seemed to pinch a part of him internally, and he wasn't sure he liked what that might entail.

"_Ollie, please_," she seemed to breathe through clenched teeth.

Whatever it was, Oliver ignored the distraction, and thrust into her, shoving her back, hard against the wall. His head dropped to her shoulder for a moment, as his eyes closed tightly to the feeling of her enveloping him once more.

"Oliver," Chloe cried in frustration, grinding her hips into his.

It was enough movement to cause him to want more, and he pulled out of her nearly instantly encasing himself within her again. And he repeated the swift strokes, increasing the rhythm each time he slid inside of her, leaving them both gasping for air.

She clung to him, her arms burrowing under his as her hands went to his back, her nails breaking the skin, and he felt her already starting to shake with the first waves of her orgasm. He bit his lip, trying to ignore the quivering he was feeling as the slight shiver ran down his spine.

Keeping one hand at her hip, he snaked his other up to cup her face, his fingers snagging into her hair as his thumb caressed her cheek.

"Chloe," Oliver murmured as he firmly shoved into her again, the water trickling onto his back only adding to the sensations as he felt himself slowly loosing his hold onto his control. Chloe responded by tightening her walls around him, her eyes clasped shut, and Oliver felt his own release hit, her passage clamping around him, and Oliver let out an unintentional groan. Falling against Chloe as the water continued to cascade down on them.

When she finally opened her eyes, she blinked a few times, as if she was unsure of what just happened, or she was just waking from a dream, and while Oliver tried to get his breathing under control, and his heart rate back to normal, he unconsciously tucked the hair behind her ears and smiled at her; thrilled to see her green eyes filled with life and warmth again, replacing the cold numbness he had seen in them when he had arrived.

He was just glad he could shake her from the prison she seemed to wake up in after each time she died, or healed someone—he still wasn't sure how it worked.

She gulped in the air, leaning into him, her limbs relaxing but not pulling away from him. Even though they broke rule number four, she didn't seem to mind, or even realize it yet, in the chaos of everything that had happened to her.

And as Oliver held her there while he tried to disregard the thoughts in the back of his mind that were beginning to form, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be the only rule they broke.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do now own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


	6. The Sixth Time

**Life Support**

**

* * *

  
**

He doesn't want to say that he's surprised she hasn't moved from his arms yet—but he can't help but admit, at least to himself, that he is. After catching their breath for a few moments, they slid down the wall, resting in each other's arms while leaning back in the tub, the water still hosing down over them. Her head resting against his chest, while his arms enveloped her: the whole scene seemed too intimate to him.

With her blond hair soaked and laid out against the skin on his chest, her heartbeat thumping so fast he could feel her pulse from her neck and side, lightly tap against his skin. He tried like hell to discourage the voice he kept hearing that told him he felt more like a lover than a friend at the moment.

But if Chloe hadn't moved, it was what she needed at the moment, so Oliver didn't dare pull away from her yet.

Instead, he embellished in the urge to trace his fingers lightly along her arms and back; half of him hoping for her to speak, and the other half wishing to be left to his own thoughts on where they were heading.

Despite her insistence for them to abide by rule number three, with no contact outside of business, as to stick to their no strings attached policy—Oliver knew they had to moderate that rule. Because the state he had found her in upon walking in here felt like a truck had just been parked on his chest. He couldn't go through that again.

So she was either going with him on all his business trips, or he was going to be conducting most business meetings through conference phone calls from his penthouse in Metropolis.

One thought kept plaguing him over and over: what if she hadn't been able to get a hold of him?

He briefly wondered if he should suggest they inform Clark, and the rest of the league of her current condition. Things were getting messier—and he wasn't sure how he could keep an eye out for her twenty-four, seven, without her becoming fumingly annoyed at him, and ignoring him in protest.

Which brought forth his curiosity on what excuse she had fed her cousin and boy-wonder about her disappearance. It couldn't take long for Clark to come sniffing around—he may appear to be made of steel, but Oliver knew there wasn't just solid metal beyond that thick Kryptonian skull.

And Oliver wasn't entirely sure he was ready to have that conversation with Clark yet, at least, not without any kryptonite around; purely as an insurance policy, of course.

"I told them I was seeing someone… " Her voice was slightly muffled; as she didn't pull her head up from his chest, but her words caught his attention despite the volume. He froze for a moment, his fingers lingering just above her skin for a quick second before continuing. "That I stayed the night with him, and that's why I wasn't home."

Oliver was silent as he took in her words. He knew, of course it was a lie—Chloe didn't see anyone anymore unless they had a secret identity, or they unofficially worked for the JL. Oliver didn't have to ask if she dropped his name as her suitor, what with him being out of town at the time, and the famous rule number one: no one finding out about them; Chloe would have never even looked at it as an option.

"But where were you actually?" He found himself asking, despite the voice in the back of his mind that said it wasn't a good topic to bring up. One of Chloe's natural talents was her ability to dodge questions, but Oliver needed an answer to this one. If he was going to keep her safe, he had to know every last detail—no matter how much it might hurt him, as her friend, in the process.

Chloe gave an exasperated sigh, her breath just slightly tickling his bare skin, "I wish I could reassure you that it was all just a simple accident."

He wasn't surprised she had picked up on his concern; he just hoped she didn't read into it too much and pull away from him. He remained quiet, waiting for her to continue.

"These two weeks, while you were in Star City?—I managed to keep pretty busy. I was looking into some of Luthorcorp's hidden files, checking sources, making sure Zod was really out of our lives for good this time." Chloe paused and licked her lips, "I had spent most of my time here, until I ran out of coffee… "

Unconsciously, his hold on her tightened, knowing full well the direction her story was heading.

"There was a strong, pungent odor… "

"Chloroform?" He interrupted her, feeling his gut tighten.

Chloe nodded, "Y-Yeah… Next thing I know, I'm waking up naked in a cold room in the coroners lab."

Oliver didn't like the word _lab_—it left a feeling of uneasiness in the pit of his stomach and made him feel like his mouth was dry with cotton balls, his throat swelling tightly at any possible scenario that might involve a lab and Chloe.

"When you say lab… ?" He wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question.

"I think if I had woken up any later; you might have returned to Metropolis with a autopsy report for a 'Chloe Sullivan' sitting on your desk."

He felt as though she were twisting a knife that was rooted deep into his side, and he could have sworn his organs twisted violently, as if the knife was actually invading his body. "Jesus, Chloe," Oliver sat up, only pulling away slightly to stare down at her. This was a whole lot more serious than he thought.

She tipped her head to the side, "In a way, I kinda' am." The right corner of her lips seemed to give a small twitch, "I've got the whole rising from the dead thing down, wonder if I should try the whole water to whine trick next… "

Oliver set his eyes to steel, "That's not funny—this is _not_ funny! Would you stop making jokes like we're not talking about how your life is in jeopardy?"

Chloe sat up straight, pulling away from his embrace, as she turned around to fix him with a cold glare, "What else am I supposed to say, Oliver?"

He felt his anger beginning to rise, she could trust him with her body but not her fears?

"I don't know, Chloe?—The truth? That you were scared?" Oliver forced the growl rising in his throat back down before he continued; "Instead of hiding behind all those sarcastic and snarky comments, maybe you could tell me what you remember so we can try and figure out who the hell is after you, before I have to explain to Lois why she needs to pick out your headstone!" As soon as the words left his throat he knew he regretted them. He knew how Chloe worked—you had to approach the situation delicately, or she would pull away from you at a faster speed that Bart or Clark could never hope to compete with.

Worst of all, he knew bringing up Lois's name after their fifth time… Had more of an affect on them than a cold shower or dip into the artic waters would.

Not that he had anticipated them going for round two tonight…

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him, "What I remember?—I remember, barely smelling the chloroform before the rag was smothered against my nose and mouth! I recall freaking out, fighting a wavy of dizzy spells and woozy butterflies that had my legs falling out from under me," she stood up from the shower, fury evident in her eyes and her lips that frowned at downwards at him. "Then I remember waking up naked and cold and alone. And then I was turning slightly, only to see all these knives and tools and carvers sitting on a tray next to me—as if they were waiting for me."

Oliver bit his tongue as he stared up her, trying to calm his temper. But she wasn't helping—she knew this wasn't what he wanted to hear, she knew what she was doing; placing dark images and thoughts of her possibly being sliced open, her ribcage cracked while some lifeless soul with a Ph.D. tried to hack into her like he was looking for the missing puzzle piece.

"That's what you wanted to hear, Oliver." She peered down at him with the same grimace on her face, while she moved her hand to turn off the water that they had allowed to continue to run. "That's what I _remember_," she sneered before climbing out of the shower entirely, stepping over their clothes and heading straight out of the bathroom.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his wet hair and stood up from the tub.

That conversation could have gone better, and admittedly, he knows he's at fault too. That after dressing, he should make his way to whichever room she escaped to and apologize for seeming so harsh with her. But they were ruled by their fears at the moment, and though Chloe had allowed him a glimpse into her's, she wasn't breaking her walls down.

So instead he leaned down, and collected his clothes, dressing quickly before making a quiet exit.

* * *

He hadn't heard from her in over three days.

Given the usual pattern, he might have guessed something had happened to her again. But he knew better—because while he hadn't heard from her in three days, he had in fact seen her. She just hadn't seen him. When he was pretty sure she was going out of her way to ignore him, he tried calling once or twice, at least to put the thought out of his mind that she was in danger without him around.

And it was creepier than he'd like to admit, but he watched her from the next building over and through the window… Taking on glance at her phone before turning away and acting like she never heard it ringing to begin with.

That was two nights ago—and he had since repeated his same routine. Once it was dark, he dawned the green leather and bow, gliding from roof to roof before halting near hers.

He would patrol every other hour, and since he didn't have to lift many arrows—not with the blur around and moving faster than a speeding bullet, he spent most of his time keeping an eye on her.

No one entered the watchtower. He had barely seen her move in all actuality. She spent most of her time at her desk, piles and spills of papers and documents poured out in front of her, every computer screen on with some incription or statistic.

She had only left the tower twice—once for coffee, and the second time to refill said coffee supply.

He didn't leave until he watched her climb into bed each night, couldn't leave until he knew for certain he could rest easy; at least for a little while. If she knew he was there, he had no doubt in his mind she would be even more furious with him, but that thought was drowned out by the feeling he got in his gut from wanting to keep her safe from harm.

He watched her walk by the window, turning through pages in some packet of documents she was holding. His eyes drifted over her, down her neck to her perky breasts that were molded perfectly to her silk gray top. Before he could stop himself his eyes fell down from her chest and roamed over her tiny waist and down her black pencil skirt.

Shaking his head, he tried to squash his sudden urge for her.

This wasn't about him or his needs and wants—and as such, he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on them.

Deciding it would be better if his mind were distracted elsewhere he turned away from the view of her window he had been studying so intently as of late.

Some patrolling was bound to get her off his mind, at least for a little while.

He just managed to stop his third assailant before he heard her com-link in his ear turn on, her voice sounding from the small ear piece speaker: "Give up the whole peeping-tom habit, Archer?"

His lip quirked for a moment, and he paused before ducking from the punch the jewel thief he had just found moments ago was swinging at him. He momentarily wondered how she had been aware of his surveillance, but slammed his gloved fist into the robber's face before deciding to ask her.

"There's a gps tracking device on you," she said stoically, as if she had heard his thoughts.

He vaguely wondered where she had placed it now, but his thoughts were haltered by the sudden sound of a gun firing. He felt the bullet graze past his arm, and he dropped to the ground, kicking the burglar in the kneecap, the impact resulting in a disgusting crack, as the short man fell back, dropping the gun and wailing.

Oliver cuffed him to the street lamp immediately, and then turned to pick up the gun and remove the bullets.

Chloe's voice was in his ear again: "Watchtower to Arrow—I heard gunfire, respond." This time he could her the slight panic in her voice as she waited for confirmation that he was fine. "Watchtower to Arrow—Respond!"

"Arrow to Watchtower—I'm fine, bullet just grazed me," he finally answered her, once he was out of hearing range from the new present he had gift wrapped for the Metropolis police department. "Heading back now."

He had barely made it fully in her window before she was reaching for him, checking over every inch of him until she saw the blood dripping down his left forearm.

"Ollie—you should have been more careful," her eyes remained on the wound, and he wondered if she was contemplating the last conversation they had face to face.

"Lucky for me he had lousy aim," he shrugged in differently.

Really his arm only winced, he had suffered from worse damages before. He would bandage it once he got home and then go see Emil in the morning for some professional bandages, stitches, or whatever and pain medication.

Chloe flattened the palm of her hand over his bicep, and suddenly Oliver felt warm and tingly. He dropped his gaze, wondering if perhaps he had underestimated the wound, when he saw a bright light emitting from Chloe's hand.

He literally felt his heart stop for a second, "Chloe, no!" Before he could even push her away the bright light seemed to increase, nearly blinding him despite his eyes still being shielded by his glasses. He glanced down at Chloe, to see her eyebrows hitched together in concentration as her eyes remained tightly closed.

Oliver tried prying himself from her grasp, "Chloe I said no!"

Her eyes opened then, revealing watery emerald pools, "I can't remember anything whenever I do this Oliver!" Chloe cried out to him, reaching for him, tightening her grasp. "I only remember when I heal you."

"I don't want you to heal me!"

She pulled herself closer into his frame, her silk top brushing against his leather vest and he suddenly felt breathless as she stared up at him with deep wide eyes. He hadn't even noticed he had tipped his head down to hers.

"I only remember you," she whispered against his lips before kissing him. "Only you." She clung harder to him, and his flesh suddenly felt as though it was on fire, whether it was from her healing touch, or her desperate lips and fevered kisses—he had no clue. But it left his skin heated and his heart scorched.

When she pulled away slowly, he stared down at her through half-lidded eyes, not that she could she behind his dark glasses.

Before he could yell at her, she hissed sharply, and he could see a dark crimson line began to stain through the sleeve of her top. She turned her back to him quickly, walking over to her desk where she leaned over it, her hands gripping it tightly as if she were trying to hold herself up.

Oliver came up behind her, hovering over her frame, just barely touching her as he leaned down, his lips so close to her ear. "Do you need… ?"

They hadn't ever really put a title to it… And he didn't exactly know if she only needed him after she healed someone, or when she came back from death. He cursed himself for not asking more questions.

Chloe seemed to incline into his frame slightly, shaking him from his thoughts as she looked over her shoulder at him, lips less than inches apart. She licked her lips, "I don't need… "

But god did he want her to.

His lips descended onto hers before he could stop himself. Somewhere inside, beyond the need to take care of her, he yearned for her. Despite all reasoning of knowing he shouldn't, he couldn't fight the urge.

She whimpered into his kiss, her new wound now long forgotten, and he dropped his hands down to hold her hips. Kneading her waist, he held her in place as he moved his leg between her thighs, his fingers pulling up the fabric of her skirt until it was completely bunched around her waist. Slipping one of his hands under the string of her underwear, he began to slowly slide it down her legs, only breaking the kiss to remove her undergarment completely.

She took the opportunity to reach across her desk for something, while he brought his left hand up to peel his glove away with his teeth. By the time it was off, she was slipping a small foiled package into his hand. He wasted no time undoing his codpiece and opening the condom, wrapping it around his already hardened cock.

Crouching behind her slightly, he wrapped an arm around her middle, his fingers dipping to spread her for him. She gasped as soon as his fingers touched her clit, and hunched her body over the desk more, giving him more access to her.

His fingers glided along her wet entrance and he groaned, wishing her remaining rules to be damned if for nothing else than the simple fact that he desired to taste her.

Grabbing her hip firmly with his right hand, he eased himself into her halfway, and pulled out till she only held his tip side her walls.

Chloe gave a small cry at the near loss of him, and he ruthlessly shoved himself into her, hard. Her fingers coiled around the edge of her desk, and she spread her legs a bit farther apart. He started slow, with short shallow thrusts, every once in a while burying himself deep in her depths to hear her scream out his name in surprise.

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat at being encased in her heat that seemed to swallow all of him deliciously. Undoubtedly, he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. The urgency was far too great this time.

His left hand started circling and pinching her clit after every thrust he made into her, as he worked to get her off. His other hand holding her firmly, while she rolled her hips back to meet his thrusts.

His brow began to furrow and he dropped his head to rest on her should as he increased their pace, panting hot air over her ear.

Chloe moaned, arching her back into him as she swung her arm back to wrap around his neck and she turned and kissed him passionately. Shivering as he plunged into her slick passage once more, causing her abdomen to clench while the rest of her body tremor around him. She cried out into his mouth as her orgasm crashed around her, and Oliver felt her tightening, choking his throbbing member as he lost himself within her.

Her knees buckled instantly, and he caught her in his arms without hesitation, collapsing onto her desk with her next to him, both their breathing labored.

Pulling down the hood to his costume, he removed his glasses and stared down at her, watching her chest rise and fall as she tried to regain control over her breathing. His eyes moved swiftly to her face, and he felt as though his breath hitched once more as he took in her flushed cheeks and wide-sparkling green eyes.

He had officially broken rule number three. And he couldn't rid himself of the sensation, nor help hoping, maybe she did too.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


	7. The Seventh Time

**Life Support**

**

* * *

  
**

This was somehow worse than when he had stormed into the watchtower a few weeks ago to find her cationic, soaked from head to toe under the water of her shower.

She was unconscious on the floor of his elevator. He had been getting ready to leave, when the elevator opened to reveal her slumped on the floor in a pair of dark blue scrubs, as if she had passed out. And at first glance, he thought his heart had stopped at the fear that she might not be breathing.

"Chloe?" His voice sounded broken and subdued to his ears, as if his very own fear was strangling the air out of him. His throat only tightened, his chest suddenly constricting with every second that she didn't respond.

Dropping down to the floor and reaching for her, his left hand immediately went to her hip, pulling her close while his other hand cradled her neck, trying to find a pulse.

She didn't have one.

He was pretty sure his heart had just plummeted to his stomach, and every fiber in his being was screaming at him to save her—to rectify the damage that was already done; cardiopulmonary resuscitation, calling Emil, trading in his favor to Zatanna, _anything_.

His eyes swept over her still form, from head to toe, finding no trace of a visible wound. Which only concluded his theory that this had to do with her ability; that Chloe had somehow died once more. And he let out a shaky breath he had nervously been holding. If this was due to her healing power then that meant, ultimately, at some point, she would be fine. Or so he hoped.

She hadn't disclosed most of her knowledge about her healing factor, and while he suspected it was mostly due to the fact that she also didn't have the best idea on how it all worked, another fear was rising that Chloe could very well be, for lack of a better term, a real-deal Catwoman, and he prayed her nine lives weren't up. That miraculously, her ability wouldn't just stop after a certain numbered time.

Nestling her safely in his arms, he picked her up from the floor, standing once he was convinced his legs were steady, and he carried her up the stairs to his room. He laid her down gently on his bed, over the green comforter. His stomach turned as he watched her head just fall to the side lifelessly. And he wished she was in his bed under different circumstances.

Her complexion managed to somehow look paler against the blankets beneath her, causing the ill feeling rising from the pit of his stomach to deepen. He needed to think. What could he do?—What did Chloe need?

His mind flashed to the first time she had sought him out, when she had crashed into him without hesitation and began stripping away their clothes until they were skin to skin. He shivered unconsciously at the memory, recalling how the cold temperature of her body had momentarily stunned him. And it forced another unsettling image into his mind, one of Chloe sitting in her shower underneath the running water when he had stormed into the watchtower trying to find her.

Shaking his head he tried to clear the memory from his mind, not wanting the image of a broken Chloe imprinted into his brain cells. He needed to settle on a task, to keep his mind from dark corners it tended to naturally dwell in. And realized one way to help Chloe, despite not knowing all the trade secrets.

Against his better judgment, he turned away from his bed, leaving her to lie alone in his room as he stepped into his connecting bathroom. Swallowing the sharp lump that recently formed and lodged in his throat, he tried to calm his nerves and senses. He didn't want to be away from her, and his protective nature was becoming primal instinct, his muscles tensed with every few feet he put between them.

Exhaling slowly, Oliver repeated over and over that Chloe was going to be fine; that she would wake up and everything would return to their normal routine. Passing the shower he immediately headed for the giant Jacuzzi tub that was remodeled in the bathroom when he purchased the clock tower. Turning the knobs and clogging the drain, he ran his hand under the water to check the temperature.

If the steam had been an indication, it was probably too hot at the moment, but he couldn't shake the vivid image of Chloe shivering in her tub, staring up at him under dripping wet bangs plastered to her forehead, her arms huddled around her as if to trap the warmth.

She may be… As cold as a corpse at the moment…

But Oliver wasn't about to let her wake up feeling like one—not if he could help it. Pulling his hand out from the water, he shook it twice to air dry before turning back around to his bedroom, shrugging out of his jacket and dress pants, until he was only wearing his boxer-briefs.

While letting the enormous tub fill with hot water, he moved to his dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out one of his black t-shirts he was sure was bound to reach Chloe's mid-thigh, knowing her petite figure.

Despite having not only seen her naked, but been inside in her, beneath her skin completely surrounded and immersed with everything Chloe, he didn't feel comfortable with undressing her while she laid unconscious and unaware in his arms. Ideally, this was not how he would prefer to deal with this situation. But Chloe had only trusted him with her secret, so he could not involve anyone else, and she hadn't left step-by-step instructions.

He was solely relying on his intuition for this one.

Tossing the shirt to lay over his shoulder, he turned his direction to where she laid still in his enormous bed that only appeared to make her that much smaller and frail. Watching her with glued eyes, he willed her to breathe, to _move_. He got neither.

Stepping to the side of the bed, he placed the black shirt to lay over the bed while he knelt down, sliding one arm under her back and the other beneath her knees. He picked her up from the bed easily, trying to ignore the sickening feeling that turned over his stomach when her head lolled back with dead weight.

He carried her to the bathroom, sitting down at the edge of the tub with her in his lap. Oliver exhaled slowly, trying to convince himself he needed to do this for her. Turning the water off once it had nearly filled to the top, he reached for her and his hand dipped between them. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of the scrubs around her hips. He pushed them down and then tugged them from her legs as best as he could without moving her too much.

It was easier for him to consider she was just sleeping if there was barely any movement to disrupt her.

Once the pants were removed, he strengthened his grip on her back, supporting her with one arm as his other grasped the bottom edge of the matching top. Oliver held his breath as he tried to gently slip her arms out of the sleeves. He made sure to cradle her with a strong grip as he carefully tugged the top over her head, leaving her completely naked in his arms.

He exhaled the breath he had been holding slowly and lifted her back into his arms effortlessly. Throwing one leg over the tub and into the water, he stepped into the mini pool in the middle of his bathroom. He kept her close to his chest while he bent down slowly to sit in the gigantic tub of steaming hot water.

Oliver supported her head as he tipped it back just slightly, letting the water sweep over to the tips of her blond roots before pulling her head back up to lay against his chest. The extremely warm water kept him from feeling the coldness of her pale skin, and for that, he was grateful.

He tried to distract himself with other thoughts while he sat in there holding her, waiting. He started with trivial thoughts that he immediately took back once it was completed; like how despite wanting to help her, he wished he didn't have to hold her while waiting for her eyelashes to flutter before she opened her eyes again.

Oliver ran one hand from her shoulder down to her arm under the water, his mind flashing back to the first time he saw her, when he turned around in the Kent barn and she was standing under a light, grinning up at him. Admittedly, he couldn't deny how his eyes had glanced her small form up and down, finding her to be an attractive young woman, but he had put a stop to his impulsive mind the second she name-dropped Lois. He had a hard time trying to imagine how he and Chloe got from that point to this.

His arm extended over her stomach and his thoughts wandered to if he should order or prepare a meal for when she woke up. He didn't know how her body reacted after going through this… But he figured she was bound to be hungry if she had been unconscious with an empty stomach for several hours.

He pondered over what she would possibly like to eat when she awoke, but he immediately stopped and frowned when he realized he had no idea what Chloe would eat or crave preference wise. He had only seen her with a cup of coffee, and he knew that was not going to provide the right amount of vitamins and nutrients she had to replenish in her body.

Deciding to disregard the thoughts having a meal ready for her, Oliver drew his eyes over her limbs. He took notice of quite a few scars he was unsure of their origin and once again he was reminded of how little he really knew Chloe, and that twisted something in him that was almost as painful as when he found her today.

He allowed his fingers to stumble lightly over a scar in her right shoulder. It looked old, maybe three years or more. But as a marksman, he noted how the scar didn't run on or curve in a sloppy or rushed manner; indicating it was exact and had served a purpose.

Not being able to stop his mind from wandering over different scenarios, he wondered if he asked Chloe if she would tell him, or if she would dodge his question and with hold her secret from him. She had always asked about his scars when he came back from a mission, or if the mark that remained from the wound or injury had been visible.

Being the fact that Chloe had worn a tank top or dress in his presence, he wondered why his eyes had never noticed it before. What else had he merely glanced over in regards to Chloe? His brow furrowed as he tried to recall every moment spent in her company.

Regrettably, he was just now taking note of how bright her smile seemed to light up the room when everything else seemed dim, and he wished for nothing more than to see it right now at this moment. He'd give anything to walk into the watchtower with her standing at one of her monitors, a corner of her lip twitching with a snarky comment on the tip of her tongue, snorting at one of his comebacks.

Realistically, he wasn't sure he had even heard her real laugh…

He may not know Chloe as well as Lois or Clark, but the things he did know about her, the little quirks in her behavior and habits, and the moans she tried to bite back when she would cling to him for support, he was certain he knew those aspects of her better than anyone.

The trouble was, while holding a lifeless Chloe, he realized knowing those little things weren't enough. It was more than just him wanting to know all of her, every angle… He had to know.

He unintentionally gulped at his inner-admission. He's known Chloe for years, and he barely knew anything. As resolute as he was to change this, he knew it would mean bending Chloe's rule… And one thing he did know about her, was she could be just as stubborn.

But the fact remained that she had come to him from the beginning. She was in his elevator and—

His thought process froze. If she was dead in his elevator, than surely his cameras had picked up her assailant. Either she had fought them off, or they had dropped her off at his doorstep. Neither made sense or explained the blue scrubs. But Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that they were on their way to a revelation.

As much as he didn't want to interrogate her first thing when she woke up, he had to know what she remembered. And he was itching to check whatever the cameras had picked up. This was the closest they had been to figuring out what the hell was happening to Chloe and who was behind it all.

And Oliver couldn't wait for the Green Arrow to get a hold of whoever was responsible.

A shiver ran down his spine immediately after the thought and he realized the water had gotten chilly, leaving him to wonder how long they had sat there. Sighing, he pressed the thoughts of checking the tapes from his mind, as he collected Chloe tightly into his arms and reached for the plug to the drain, tugging it out and letting the water seep down in the form of a small cyclone.

Not about to let her wake up naked and shivering, he carefully stood with her in his arms as he waited for the last bit of remaining water to purge itself from the tub. He retook his previous seat on the edge, collecting the towel sitting off to the side and he wrapped it around her figure. She was pressed with her chest against his as he tried to wrap the towel around her back, attempting to dry her body and hair from the cold water dripping over her skin.

And that's when he felt it, her chest expanded with a gasp of air and she shook, from her every point of her body, from her head to her toes. He hadn't been holding his breath but his chest finally felt lighter at finally having her breathe again and he no longer felt as if his throat and lungs were burning.

Immediately he tilted back to look down at her, her eyes now open wide and blinking rapidly as she turned her head, glancing around the room, completely disorientated and unaware of her surroundings. Her back tensed and he slid his hand down her spine to try and relax her as she gulped for another breath of air.

He felt her body slacken once more, slightly relaxed. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled a shaky breath as she pressed her head into the crook of his neck.

"Oliver… " His name left her lips like a another short breath and she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly.

He didn't hesitate in wrapping his arms around her. He hoisted her up further onto him as he stood from the tub, holding the towel against her back as he carried her back to his bedroom. He didn't care about the water dripping from his soaked boxers, or from the body. But Chloe did, because her second act of movement was to crush her lips to his as her small foot tried to push the waistband of his boxer-briefs down from his hips.

He pried his lips from hers and moved one hand down to stop her foot, "Chloe… "

She didn't pause, she merely moved the location of her lips to his collarbone.

Oliver stifled a groan as to not encourage her, "Chloe, you're cold and dripping cold water from your body, you need to dry off."

He had learned that she awoke feeling cold, and hated it, couldn't shake herself from it. So he wasn't about to let her shiver and suffer while trying to get warm from under him. He was pretty sure there would plenty of time for that once she was warm and dry. He knew what she wanted after waking from her state of death, but this was the first time Oliver realized she needed more than physical urges.

He wanted to take care of her, and he wanted her to let him.

Sitting her down on the bed, he pulled the towel up from her back and pressed it over the corners of her body and along the curves, making sure not to miss a drop. His eyes fell to her face and he pulled the towel up to her hair and gently massaged it. His eyes never left hers, despite how they weren't back to their normal shade of green yet.

"What do you want to eat?" He asked in a whisper.

She didn't reply, instead her eyes left his to sweep over his wet and nearly naked form before returning to meet his gaze.

Oliver willed himself not to gulp at her obvious intention, "Chloe, you need to eat something." He tried to use a stern voice, just to let her know she would not be getting her way yet.

She lifted a shoulder in defeat, shrugging her indecisiveness.

He massaged the towel over the ends of her hair now, "Okay, well, are you in the mood for breakfast? Or would you prefer something with more iron and vitamins?"

He wasn't a doctor or a nutritionist, but Oliver Queen took care of his body. And he was pretty confident he could take care of Chloe's as well, in any and every way.

"Something light," she finally resided in defeat.

Nodding, he threw the towel to a corner in his room, and reached for the t-shirt he had pulled out earlier from his dresser. Opening the shirt, he carefully shifted it over her head, and down her neck, helping her pull her arms through the sleeves gently.

If her blank stare was anything to go by, she wasn't too pleased with being dressed. But he did his best not to acknowledge it. Instead he pulled back the comforter and sheets from a corner of his bed and nudged his head in the direction of the pillows. "You should stay warm," he told her. And she must have given up on following him because she complied, shifting onto her knees and crawling over to his bed.

She wiggled under the blankets, and he tucked her in once she was completely under. "Would you like something to drink?"

Chloe nodded, "Water?"

He gave a small smile in response, "Okay, be right back." On his way out of the room, he stopped by his dresser and pulled out a pair of green plaid pajama pants and opted for changing in the hallway as to not distract Chloe from eating first.

From there he headed to the kitchen, pulled open the fridge doors, immediately going to the bagels on the second shelf. He pulled out one and cut it open, sliding it into the toaster for a light shade of a minute and he headed to his desk. He set down in front of his computer and tapped a few keys on the keyboard, bringing up the surveillance footage from the cameras in his elevator.

He rewound the footage till he saw himself falling to pick an unconscious Chloe up from the floor of the elevator. He then started to rewind it slower, hoping to catch a glimpse of how she came to be there to begin with.

And that's when the feed went static and he was greeted with a pepper-and-salt-screen.

Perfect.

If the footage told him anything, it was that Chloe definitely hadn't arrived in his elevator by herself. She probably didn't know how she even came to his penthouse to begin with.

Oliver cursed and turned off his computer, going back into the kitchen to fix Chloe's bagel.

Re-opening the fridge he pulled out the small container of light-cream cheese and lightly covered her bagel sides with it. Reaching for a cup of mixed fruit, consisting of strawberries, cantaloupe and grapes; he placed it down on the plate with the bagel and moved to get her a glass of filtered water next.

At the moment, he was mostly pissed off at himself. He had been right above her when her kidnapper and possibly torturer had disposed her body in his elevator. Just a few floors between them and he hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it.

Some damn hero.

Worst of all, they knew to dump her in Oliver Queen's private elevator. Whoever they were dealing with, they certainly knew more about Chloe Sullivan than just her meteor ability. And they probably knew Oliver Queen was more than a billionaire.

As much as he knew Chloe, for whatever her reasons she had, didn't want to dig too much into what was happening. They simply had no choice now, and he was going to have to tell her that.

Sighing, he picked up the plate and glass, carrying them into the bedroom. She was sitting against the pillows, and he noticed her coloring starting to return to her skin. Placing the plate down on the nightstand beside her, he handed her the glass of water, watching her take a long gulp.

"I didn't know what fruit you liked, so I brought you a mixed cup," he nodded towards the small cup beside the bagel.

Chloe set the, now have empty glass down on the nightstand and picked up the plate. "Thank you," she said softly, reaching for the bagel and taking a bite.

Once she was done with the bagel, she moved onto the fruit cup, and mostly just ate the strawberries. Oliver rubbed the back of his head, "So uh… What fruits do you like then?"

He tried to ignore how her lips wrapped around the plump, ruby strawberry. Devouring it slowly, she smiled up at him, "Strawberries, blueberries, peaches, and green apples."

Oliver tried not to smirk as he added her favorite fruits to his list of things about Chloe Sullivan to his head.

As he watched her finish eating, he decided not to bring up how she got here, or how her mysterious assailant knew she had a connection to Oliver.

Instead, he picked up her plate and headed back to the kitchen to set it in the sink and refill her glass of water. He returned back to his room a moment later, handing her glass as she took another lengthy sip and returned it to his nightstand.

She peered up at him with enormous emerald eyes, as he walked around to the other side of the bed, pulling back the blankets and sheet to get in. He sunk into the bed, propping himself up on his elbow as he watched her watching him.

It occurred to him she wasn't watching him because she was expecting him do something, but that she was uncertain of what they were doing. They hadn't slept together. Ever.

They had screwed each other, sure, but they hadn't even shared a bed once while doing that much.

Sleeping together was breaking one of her rules, because the setting was too intimate, which she wanted to stay very distant from.

"I could sleep on the couch," he offered at her obvious discomfort.

She shook her head, but kept her eyes on him, "Don't be ridiculous."

His lips turned upwards with a small smile as he turned off the light, "Okay then." He laid down trying to close his eyes and not imagine any scenarios of the day that could have led to nightmares.

He felt Chloe dip back into the bed, and he pictured her lying down now, possibly facing him.

"Oliver?" He heard her whisper in the dark, after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes?" He shifted his arm under his pillow, turning more on his side in case she was facing him, though he doubted she could see anything.

"C-Can I stay here a couple days?"

Fear sunk to the bottom of his heart at her question.

Chloe didn't leave the watchtower if she didn't have to. Asking to stay somewhere else meant she no longer felt safe. Worse, she felt safe with him and clearly, she wasn't.

But if anything, he had realized today what it would be like to really lose her. And he wasn't prepared for that.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the side of her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You can stay as long as you'd like."

He felt her cheek under his thumb move slightly, and he hoped it was because she was smiling.

"Thank you for taking care of me," her leg brushed his in his large bed and he bit his lip. "It was the first time I didn't feel as cold as steel or wake up in the basement of some hospital. "

He ran his hand through her hair but froze at her relief, "Chloe," Oliver paused, wondering if he should tell her how she came to be in his penthouse. It wasn't that he wanted to keep it from her; he just wanted to protect her. She was already scared enough to not return to the watchtower for a couple days and he wasn't about to add anything to the list of things that might give her nightmares.

Absentmindedly, his thumb stroked her cheek and jaw and she relaxed even further into him and his touch. He wasn't sure if it was his touch that was comforting her, or if she was waiting for him to continue after his words had drifted off. Not knowing what else to say, and no longer able to fight his urge, finally he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her against him.

His lips hovered over hers for a moment, and he licked his lips nervously before brushing them softly against hers. She didn't seem surprised, as she didn't move to pull away or hesitate before returning the kiss, and her hands reached out, going to the back of his shoulder blades in an attempt to pull him closer.

He allowed her to pull him over, and he turned into her further, while she lifted her leg to his hip to accommodate him into her frame. His breath hitched as he remembered she wasn't wearing anything underneath the t-shirt he had supplied her with, that was no doubt riding up her body presently. His hand draped down her neck, caressing her visible skin gently and he pulled his lips from hers to follow his fingers in pursuit.

Chloe whimpered at the loss of his lips, but kept herself preoccupied as her hands lowered from his back to the rim of his pants pushing them down passed his hips, almost successfully undressing him in one movement.

Oliver didn't allow himself to be distracted by her methods of undressing him. Instead he was memorized by the way her pulse fluttered beneath his lips as he kissed her throat, dragging his lips down to her collarbone where he had to push away the collar of the t-shirt in order to reach.

She murmured incoherently, her mouth next to his ear, causing him to shiver when her breath whispered over the sensitive spot. His hands roamed down her body, only stopping once his fingers found the bottom of the t-shirt and he pushed it her body slowly with his thumbs; his hands sprawled over her smooth skin as he slid the shirt up her hips and waist, and further up her body still.

He only steered off course when the shirt laid bunched up above her chest, and he grazed his thumbs under the curves of her breasts, loving the sound of her inhaling sharply as he caressed her sensitive skin. She slid her body further down underneath his in response. He chuckled softly at her reaction, and completely removed the shirt, tossing it to lay somewhere on the floor where he was sure it would be joined by his pants in a few minutes.

Oliver lowered his lips to her chest, kissing down until he had one of her nipples in his mouth. He puckered his lips and sucked gently on the sensitive bud, darting his tongue out to flick against the hard pebble. Chloe arched her back in response, mewing in a soft hiss, her arms tight at his neck again.

Encouraged by her response, he trailed his hands down her side, passed her ribs and then her hip as the tip of his tongue met her nipple once more. His hand stroked her thigh down, then back up where he turned his wrist and stroked her slit with his finger,

Chloe groaned and threw her head back, her hips pushing out against his hand. He pulled back from her just enough to watch her as he stroked her clitoris. Her eyes shut at the contact and if possible she inclined toward him even more, seeking more contact.

He flexed his fingers, and he turned them clockwise along her labia and slit, pleased to feel how wet she was growing as he his fingers slid easily against her lower lips. She gasped when she felt him slip two fingers inside her walls, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan as she thrust her hips down against his fingers that were curling inside her, just at the right spot.

"Oliver!" Chloe cried out, begging him to stop teasing her.

He rubbed his fingers inside her in reply; her rule of no foreplay was broken now. But he was not about to stop here. It wasn't about breaking rules, or trying to help her. It was just about wanting and having her.

He removed his fingers and Chloe let out a harsh breath, relaxing against the mattress as he rolled off the bed and stripped himself free of his pants. Despite the minimum amount of light in the dark room, he didn't miss the way her half-closed bedroom eyes roamed down his taut body and lingered over his straining erection.

Kneeling down on the bed, he crawled back over to her, nestling between her thighs as her legs bent to each side of his hips with anticipation. Oliver smiled before grasping her thighs as he slid down from her to rest on his stomach on the bed. Before she could understand what he was doing, he pressed his lips along her thigh, his fingers drawing up the back curve of her knee.

He repeated the same action to the opposite leg, nuzzling his lips higher up her body until his head was between her thighs. He felt her hips quiver as he placed an open mouth kiss to her wet clitoris.

Her fingers ensnared in his hair and her hips bucked, causing her to knock against his chin, as she moaned, "Ollie…"

He flattened his palm over her stomach to still her before running his tongue along her slit, fully tasting the tangy taste of her on his taste buds.

"Oh, God!" Her back arched further than before, and she looked as though she would snap at any moment.

He kissed her delicately, his eyes looking up at her as his tongue grazed the tight bud of her clit, and he sucked hard as he watched her shake with shock over the sensation. His ears loving the effect he was having on her as she cried out loudly or whenever her breath got caught in her throat when he'd repeat his ministrations.

Her hands gripped the ends of his hair tighter, and without giving her a moment to adjust to his licks, he opened her with his fingers and evaded her with his tongue, humming light vibrations that had her lifting off the bed and her thighs and abdomen muscles clenching with the build up of her orgasm.

"Ollie," Chloe whimpered as he licked her again, thrusting his tongue back in after her shiver. "Ollie, please!"

Satisfied with her cries, but not with his appetite for her, he finally pulled away from her and moved back up her body, his throbbing cock nudging at her entrance. She tilted her hips, all to ready to accept him impatiently. And he leaned down on his elbows for support as he slowly pushed his way into her, stopping once he was halfway.

Her eyes were closed tightly as her legs tightened their grip on his hips while she tried to meet him at mid-thrust. He only leaned back out of reach in response, making sure she couldn't take him fully in without his help.

He wrapped a hand in her hair, tugging at the locks with little force while his other hand rested on her hip to control her while he continued to enter her with slow precision.

"Ollie," she whined at his achingly slow pace but lost her words at the loss of him before he shoved himself back into her.

Oliver leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers as he guided her into his thrusts with his hand on her hip, changing back and forth between slow, hard thrusts, and fast and sharp.

His name came on her lips each time he penetrated past her walls and stroked her g-spot with fever, his hips crashing against hers in a rhythm neither one of them no longer controlled.

Her back stretched once more as her walls clenched around him, and her nails scraped down his neck, passed his shoulder blades, almost completely down his back, where a slight tingle at his spine told him this would all be over too soon.

He only pumped into her faster than before, relenting only when she clung to him so tight he couldn't move anymore and he conceded to their spent bodies, collapsing on top her, kissing her sweat glistened skin as both their labored breaths echoed in his bedroom.

He made love to Chloe.

And Oliver had no doubt she knew it too.

Her breathing started to even out and it fanned across his hot skin intimately, as he held her, it ever so sightly luring him to sleep.

He barely felt the numb pain in his gut; his instincts telling him there would be repercussions in the morning.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, nor do I claim to own any other characters therefore owned by DC comics.


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